by Barbara Loots

After watching 33 free streamed operas from the Met during quarantine

Sometimes the heroine is just a girl,
an innocent set up to be betrayed.
Whether she loves a hero or a churl,
she’ll face a three- or four-hour escapade
in which her feelings and her fate are swayed
by charm, by force, deception, or disguise
she’s helpless to resist or to evade.
And then she dies.

Sometimes around the heroine unfurl
fate’s sinister entrapments. Undismayed,
she feels the storm of accusation swirl
and knows the price of honor must be paid.
Beset by Powers That Must Be Obeyed,
she suffers while the chorus vilifies.
Her hopes of justice and redemption fade.
And then she dies.

Sometimes the heroine, a perfect pearl,
whether a princess or a village maid,
regardless of her protest or demurral,
becomes the object of an evil trade,
a bloody game, a sinister charade,
with hidden motives and transparent lies,
with clash of insult and with flashing blade.
And then she dies.

Through every lamentation and tirade,
each heroine embraces her demise
despite how fervently she may have prayed.
And then…

by Julia Griffin

“The US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has warned of ‘unusual or aggressive’ behavior
in American rats as a consequence of more than two months of human lockdown for city-dwelling
rodents who now find themselves unable to dine out on restaurant waste, street garbage and other
food sources. …
Elevated levels of rat aggression [have] been observed in New York, where there are increased reports
of cannibalism and infanticide, and New Orleans, where unusual rat behavior was caught on CCTV.”
—The Guardian

How scary is the urban beast
Obsessively compelled to feast
On burgers, fries, and Chick-Fil-A
Who, if those treats are swept away,
So quickly lets its manners slide
To cannibal infanticide!
There’s something in this contact drought
That brings the worst in mammals out;
Aggressively they spread disease
And hang up effigies from trees;
They turn psychotic, eat their brood,
And spit at workers selling food.

by Chris O’Carroll

They show no respect for my crown.
They say that my lies are untrue.
I’m shutting the company down—
You know, like democracies do.

by Barbara Lydecker Crane

Pandemic walks have fast become
each day’s aerobic task—
not by distance or by speed,
just breathing through my mask.

by Bruce Bennett

I would have screamed right back, but you were gone.
The truth is, I forgot I had it on.

by Stephen Pisani

“Boy, 12, Remains Totally Calm Despite The Massive Bear Creeping Up Behind Him”
—HuffPost

A bear’s behind me, but I’m not afraid.
I keep my cool, retrace my steps to camp.
My parents yell, “Return at once to shade!”
I walk unhurried. I won’t risk a cramp.
“Return! Return!” My parents yell it loud.
The bear seems nice. I’m thinking, What the heck?
I dawdle, going slow as I’m allowed.
“He’s getting close!” I turn around to check.

by J.P. Celia

“World’s most endangered primate population
triples after 17 years of careful conservation.”
—Good News Network

The gibbon is my favorite beast.
My favorite monkey, to be sure.
It’s not a monkey, but an ape.
An ape’s a monkey, but mature.

The gibbon doesn’t have a tail.
I guess somebody sawed it off.
It doesn’t have a family name,
Like Hindenburg or Romanov.

It swings, or rather, “brachiates.”
It’s lost its wallet and its keys.
It’s also lost its underwear.
It speaks in fluent gibbonese.

by Ruth S. Baker

“’Milli Violini’: I was a fake violinist in a world-class miming orchestra’”
—The Guardian

I’ve longed to play the violin
Since I was just a tiddler.
What matter if I’ve ears of tin?
I’m still a world-class fiddler.